Daring the Silence (1/2) Deirdre (deirdre@x-philes.com) Rating: G Category: SRA Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance. Summary: Mulder and Scully meet again after five years apart. As Scully regrets decisions made five years earlier, a couple of angels decide to make everything all right. Archive: Archive freely; this story is released into the public domain. Disclaimer: Everyone you recognize belongs to CC and company - I'm just borrowing them. ***** After all these years, it was the silence that she remembered. Funny, distracted by the details of day-to-day living, she'd never noticed it then. As they filled the air with mindless chatter, discussion of their cases, it had been ignored. But now, it dominated her memories. The absence of arguments - of the respectful but strong-willed clashes that were so vital to their relationship; the absence of teasing - of the light quips that had been there even on their first case. Silence. She must have realized it then if she saw it now, could have broken it - have forced him to confront it, by not signing those papers, by screaming and losing her control - forcing him to understand how she felt, but she never dared to shatter the illusion their chatter created. Instead she'd chosen the easy route, the route that preserved her control, and hid her vulnerabilities. She'd vanished - walked out of his life without a word, and he'd never tried to call her back. She'd left - in silence. An ironic end to a partnership that survived so much, suffered through so many catastrophes, to end without a sound of protest from either - to end in silence. But here she stood, ten feet from a place where she'd never thought she'd stand again. Two days ago, if anyone had told her that she'd be considering the action she now wished to take, she would have laughed in their face. Two days ago. How much could change with just a few words, in such a short time. ***** She'd never wanted to attend the seminar, but her supervisor insisted. In the large department that made up the Los Anglos Medical Examiner's Office, being chosen to attend a major seminar on forensic pathology was high praise for her ability indeed. Especially being chosen to attend one given by the FBI and taking place in Washington DC. Unable to explain her refusal to return to Washington, to graciously refuse the invitation because she'd keep her past a secret from her new colleagues, she'd flown toward the lion's den - toward Washington. With her changed name and appearance she'd hoped that none of her former colleagues would recognize her - and it had worked. She'd even walked the hall of Quantico without being recognized, an accomplishment she'd privately glorified in and regretted. She'd managed to escape her past, her association with the X-files, and had been accepted due to her intelligence. So why had she feel so lost - and disappointed? On the fourth day it had happened, perhaps she should have known it would. Gossip on Fox Mulder had never been far from the mouths of agents - a lesson she should have learned long ago. Standing chatting with a pathologist from the Chicago PD at the luncheon buffet, she'd overheard two agents gossiping. She'd stepped into their conversation at that point, asking them about the Fire-Ring case and about Mulder, explaining that she was a former agent who'd known Mulder when she worked in Washington. one sighed <'Bout two months ago, Mulder helped crack one of the larger drug rings operating up and down the East Coast - Fire-Ring, some idiot nick-named it. He went in during the last part of the operation, working with the ATF agents who were storming the main clearing-house, insisting that he *needed* to be there until the end. Just before they finished securing the place, Mulder took a bullet to the head.> Gasping, she'd pulled herself quickly under control, not wanting to interrupt the man's story. he took a deep breath Her heart tore in two Smiling politely, she'd excused herself, not caring to listen to his list of Mulder's faults. She knew them much more intimately than he. But stubborn tears found their way to her eyes - the tears she'd been unable to shed five years before. Trust no one, huh? She'd driven him back to that policy. Her fault. ***** So now she stood, outside the door of his private room - just steps away from his bedside. Slipping through the hospital, peaceful under the lethargic eyes of the night-staff, she'd found her way there undiscovered, unknown. Silent. She wasn't past the point of no return yet, she could leave now - go back to her life on the East Coast, amongst the sun, surfers, sand, and gangs. Well, she'd always hated the sun - the curse of the red-head. She pulled open the door and stepped into the silence. Another silence, steadily interrupted by the beeping of the heart monitor. A silence filled by the steady glow of moonlight which outlined the still form lying on the bed. A silence she intended to break, although it might already be far too late for him to hear. Softly she walked across the room and pulled the single arm-chair to the left side of the bed. Uncovering his hand, bringing it out from beneath the white hospital blanket, she gasped. A gleaming band of gold, lightly engraved with a twisting pattern lay upon his ring-finger, shining in the moonlight. Slowly she withdrew her cross chain from where it lay hidden tucked beneath her blouse, and looked at the matching golden band that now hung beside the cross. For an instant she just looked at it, remembering the last time she had worn it, then reached behind her neck to unclasp the chain. The ring she placed upon her finger - the cross upon his neck. Picking up his left hand with hers, she intertwined their fingers, both hands now shining with their bands of gold. "Fox, I'm here. I know the past five years were my fault, that you'll probably never forgive me, but I'm here. And this time, I'm not leaving." The seminar, her work on the West Coast - all of it be damned. She didn't care, never really had actually. But she hadn't realized how futile her escape from love had been until now. Her attempt to control her heart, to break the bond that tied them together, hadn't worked - but it had taken the realization of how close he hung to death to make her accept it. Since she'd heard the words telling of Mulder's injuries, she'd discovered one thing: all she cared about lay, unconscious, in this room. She leaned forward, keeping a firm grasp on his hand, laying her head against the bed - and allowed her eyes to close. Perhaps tonight her dreams wouldn't be filled with the unexplainable sounds of a crying child. ***** Fox Mulder suddenly realized he was sitting upon an uncomfortable chair in a very empty room. He didn't know how long he'd been there - time didn't seem to matter until this moment - or even where there was. Or where he thought he was supposed to be. All he could recall was his name: Fox Mulder. Didn't know where it came from, just knew it was him. And that was all that mattered. Suddenly, behind him, he heard a soft whimper. The idea of other people presented itself to him, an idea he found he didn't like. This room belonged to *him*. So instead of allowing it to pass him by, he turned to confront the intruder. A small red-headed girl, with a grubby tear-streaked face, stood before him, pouting. His discomfort with the idea of others vanished suddenly with the appearance of her cute but dirty face. "Hello." he said and realized that it required more. "I'm Fox Mulder. Who are you?" Wrong question. Fresh tears welled from her hazel eyes and he glanced around in extreme chagrin. He didn't know how to handle a crying child! "I don't know!" she screamed. Instead of pulling away, as he wanted to, he found himself stepping forward and picking her up. She then buried her dirty face into his shoulder. "I don't have a name yet." she sobbed, muffled by the cloth. Didn't have a name? His brain begin to kick into action. This was beginning to make no sense. Where was he, and who was this child? "Where are we?" he asked the crying child, the only one at hand. And she looked up at him in shock. "Here, of course. Where else is there?" she answered and her tears vanished as unexpectedly as they had begun. Then she screwed up her face in concentration. "Oh, I have a message." She twisted herself out of his arms and standing before him, closed her eyes and recited: "You must go back, leave now. Your time here has ended." Opening her eyes "Did I do right?" Mulder ignored her question, concentration instead upon the feelings those words aroused. The loneliness, emptiness - his guilt; feelings that pulled at his heart even though he still didn't remember the memories attached to them. He didn't even remember where 'back' was, but reluctance filled him as he tried to recall what it meant. "I don't want to!" he shouted impulsively. "But you have to!" she insisted. "Or bad things happen." And her eyes grew very wide. Taking his hand in hers "Please?" Her hazel filled again with her endless supply of tears. Somehow the simple pleading of this tiny girl wore down all his defenses. "How?" he asked weakly. "Oh, you know." And with a smile she turned on her heel and vanished. "How?" he asked the empty room, and an improbable memory filled him mind. Laughing, he thought and clicked his heels three times, eyes closed in wishing. The room was empty once again. ***** End part 1/2 Daring the Silence (2/2) Deirdre ***** "The 'Wizard of Oz'?" one woman who had been watching the scene turned toward another. "It worked Mel. Remember, it's the will and the wish that count." "But the 'Wizard of Oz'? It's so ... I don't know ..." "Trite? Hackneyed?" "Whatever." "I never said my brother was original." Melissa rolled her eyes "I wouldn't say that, Sam. Some of those theories he comes up with ..." "There are more things in heaven and earth ... " "So exactly were are we?" "You know where you are, Mel. It's where I am that's debateable." "Did I do right?" The tiny red-headed girl abruptly appeared before them, her grimy face alight with hope. Sam turned toward her, smiling "Yes darling, you did. It's up to them now." "Huh?" "Don't worry, Sam's being confusing." Mel tossed a glance at the brown- headed woman, effectively stopping her comments for the moment. "Where do you want to go as a reward?" "Can I get a name?" Tears trembled at the edge of her voice, again. "Not now, but soon. I promise, sweetling. Please don't cry." "You're not going to stop her if she's determined to, Mel - she's going to be just like her mother in that way, isn't she." Sam commented over the child's head. "Stubborn, strong-willed, with a spirit that won't quit? Yeah, I think so." "And, according to that scene we saw, spoiled rotten. Her father won't be able to refuse her anything. Did you see how easily she convinced him, even though he was determined not to leave?" "It's an inborn skill - obviously." "Mel, Mel," the child began tugging urgently at her hand. "Mel, I feel funny." "What?" And she looked at the girl whose eyes were beginning to close despite any efforts to keep them open. She gathered her into her arms, and glanced at Sam "Sweets, do feel like you're fading?" "Yea...." Sleep won the battle, then the child faded from Melissa's arms. Mel looked at her empty arms in surprise. "Already?" Sam's eyes unfocused and she remarked "Not quite yet. But soon, very soon - our siblings won't waste any time." "If you don't consider the past five years a waste - two god-damn stubborn asses fallen so far into self-blame that they forgot the reason they promised themselves to each other - their love." "A learning experience. Their relationship will be stronger for it." Sam said absentmindedly. She still hadn't returned from where ever her mind had gone. "Mel, it's time for me to go." "What?" "I was only allowed here to see if I could help. But the little one did fine all on her own. I must return." "Where are you, anyhow?" "I still don't know. I just know I wish I didn't have to return." The pain that filled Samantha's eyes tugged at Melissa's heart - no one should suffer that much. "I'm glad I met you - even under such unusual circumstances. I wish we had known each other otherwise." "Sam ..." Melissa stretched out her hand but the woman vanished. ***** Blinking his eyes wearily - noting he had an extreme headache, Fox Mulder tried to figure just where he was. Ah, the scent gave it away: a hospital. So how did he get here, this time? Thoughts of a case named Fire-Ring ran through his head (he wanted to kill whatever idiot thought of that name) but passed too quickly to be grasped. Okay, he probably got injured (what else was new?), should have expected that. But something else was wrong - *who* was holding his hand? His eyes were having difficulty focusing in the pale moonlight, but he didn't know who it could be. Over the past couple of years he'd alienated everyone, deciding that nothing really mattered anymore. No one should care enough to sit by his side anymore. His own actions and decisions had cost him the one that he desperately wanted there. Still blinking, and wincing at the pain in his head, he moved so that he could see the head lying at his side. Very short hair - not a style he recognized. For an instant, the flash of hope faded. But then he noticed the color in the moonlight. Brilliant, brilliant red. He thought his imagination was teasing him. "Sc...lly" he croaked out, shifting his body to try and awaken her. Every movement hurt, as stiff muscles cried in outrage. Almost instantly, the woman awakened and lifted her head. His heart soared. Even with her strange hairstyle, he could not mistake the shadowed lines of the face, the way she moved. "Mulder?" she asked, the same voice, shaded with shock. "What ... doing ... here?" he struggled to get out, trying to figure out how his voice got this rusty. "I'm sorry, I'll leave. I know I'm not a person you really want see anymore." she paused a moment, drawing a deep breath and turning her head from him. Then whispered, so softly that he suspected that she didn't mean for him to hear it "But, love, you weren't supposed to wake up." She still loved him? Cared enough to sit by the bed of a dying man? "Stay!" he forced out. She whipped her head around "What!? But don't you hate me? I walked out on you." For once, her grief was so obvious to him that he realized he was seeing the Dana so few ever saw, a woman out of control, betraying the emotions that ran so deeply within her. "No, love ... you. Thought you hated *me*" Good, his voice was growing stronger. "No." Softly, but definite. Then the professional 'look' he remembered so well changed the shadows of her face. "My god, what am I doing - I should go find your doctor!" Just then, a nurse poked her head into the room, probably double-checking the changes on her monitor. Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight of Dana and she vanished. "Probably being done. Why surprised?" his tortured voice answered. "Why is she surprised?" At his nod, she continued, "Um, I kinda slipped in - avoided the night staff all together. I'm not even supposed to know about your condition. I found out by accident." He lifted his eyebrows, deciding to see if their silent communication still worked after five years apart. His throat just hurt too much to speak. She shrugged, understanding perfectly. "No one told me. Probably decided that I didn't care. I do." The hurt in her voice was obvious. "Do?" She nodded and he felt the rebirth of a hope that had died that horrible day five years before. "Stay." She didn't try to argue. But she did try to untangle their hands, trying to put a separation between them. He grasped her hand with more strength than even he expected and discovered another surprise. Lifting her hand up to his face, he peered at the simple band of gold, tears beginning to stream from his blurry eyes. Even as the doctors began to rush in, poking and prodding, he refused to let go of her hand. And as the nurses began to demand of Dana what she was doing there, he glared at them and used his abused voice to demand that they leave her alone. This time, he wasn't going to let her walk out of his life without a struggle - to disappear into the night. And she didn't try. Instead, she sat by his side for the next busy day, calmly greeting the very guilty-looking Margaret Scully and Walter Skinner when they ran into his room, keeping her temper and holding his hand every second she could. But her eyes promised interesting conversations when she was convinced that he could handle them - and even though he expected that they'd re- open old wounds during them, this time he'd make sure they healed them. Together. And just before he closed his eyes for a nap the second day, after checking that she was sleeping peacefully on the cot the nurses had found once they realized she wasn't about to leave, a strange flash covered the scene. A laughing red-headed child, her face covered with dirt. End.